


To Give

by CrazyPrepared (writerofberk)



Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls: The Beat Goes On (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, YES I KNOW THIS IS A WEIRD FRIENDSHIP PAIRING SHUT UP & LET ME HAVE THIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 12:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14473128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofberk/pseuds/CrazyPrepared
Summary: Where Sky always knew more than he ever let on, and says a few things Branch needed to hear. Some spoilers for S1, E6 and S2, E3.





	To Give

Branch had a reputation—and maybe it wasn’t necessarily a good reputation, and like as not, it never would be, not among such happy-go-lucky creatures as the trolls—but it was a reputation, and it was his, and it was a reputation for vigilance—for caution—for safety—a reputation, too, for a resolve that only stiffened no matter the ridicule or mockery he endured—but a reputation, above all, for being careful.

Branch had a reputation for being careful, and Sky simply could not fathom, then, why the troll with the reputation for being careful was, at the current moment, being so careless.

He knew, of course – he couldn’t remember exactly when he’d finally put the pieces together, to tell the truth, but once he had, he felt he’d always known, somewhere in the back of his mind – but if he hadn’t, it was safe to say he would have figured it out sometime in the last ten minutes or so.  
Branch wasn’t even wearing gloves, for hair’s sake—dark sunglasses, yes, thick black hood pulled low over his face, yes, and while they did a passable job of obscuring his features, he failed to obtain the complete anonymity he was so obviously grasping at—why on earth wasn’t he wearing gloves? His colors were just too unique for him to leave his skin exposed—nobody else in the village had that same bright, distinctive blue.

Sky supposed he had to give the kid—well, all right, he’d turned twenty-four this past summer, and he would no doubt vehemently protest against the term if he heard it, but Sky couldn’t see anything but the scowling, grey-skinned preteen Branch had been when he’d first stumbled into the shop and grunted something, in a so-so attempt at deepening his voice to that of an adult, about gift paper.  
Well, the fact remained – Sky did have to give the kid a bit of credit. Thirteen years now, and he was the only one who knew—how the rest of the village hadn’t caught on yet, now that still had him scratching his head most days—especially when the kid was so obvious about it, too—though it wasn’t like anybody had paid much attention to the kid once he’d made it clear their attention wasn’t welcome but—

Sky took a breath, straightened his tie, and dragged his thoughts back to the business at hand. “The usual, then?” He cast a glance into the shadowed face. “One hundred rolls of red paper, two hundred sixty-five cardboard boxes of medium diameter, a dozen packs of ribbons in varying colors?” He knew the order like the back of his hand by now – it wasn’t a common request, and it had raised more eyebrows than his own the first time the kid had come in to place it.

“Yes.” Even in his disguise as the mysterious, benevolent figure come to bestow gifts upon the village, Branch wasted no time in beating around the bush. “That’ll be all.”

“Of course.” Sky nodded. “Payment?” He didn’t need payment. The first few times after the Giver had made his debut, he’d tried to refuse the baskets of blueberries or skin-soothing creams the kid brought, but Branch had taken it as the absolute lowest of insults, turned red to what must have been the very tips of his pointed ears, and shouted at the top of his lungs, adult voice slipping noticeably, that he did not need charity, thank you very much, and that he could damn well make his own gift paper and boxes if he had to.

Branch reached beneath his hood, into his hair, and produced several jars of vibrantly pink glitter, and an entire head of cabbage. “I know it’s not much. I was in a hurry, I forgot the rest, I—

Sky held up a hand. “It’s sufficient.” It wasn’t sufficient, not really – he could produce his own glitter any time he wanted, and that cabbage was headed for the trash the instant he got home tonight, but he didn’t care, not when he knew Branch was just going to turn around and use those boxes and ribbons to give the village a night of wonder and excitement and joy.  
He took the jars and cabbage, and continued before Branch could protest, stubborn as he was – and the thought of the other’s headstrong nature didn’t grate on Sky in quite the way it had in previous years; rather, he found himself fighting back something like a smile when he thought of it. “I’ll get my men to leave your things near the side entrance. I trust you can get it back to your bunker from there.”

He didn’t mean to say it. The word, it just—it just slipped from his tongue, like water, like oil, running down and spilling out through his lips, and then it was too late, and he didn’t mean to say it, and he didn’t know why he had—it was just that he’d gotten used to talking to Branch when he wasn’t playing at anonymity with all the silly disguises, all the black jackets and dark sunglasses—he’d gotten used to talking to Branch without all the pageantry and pretend—hell, he’d even begun to enjoy the kid’s company, though he’d sooner see his shop go bankrupt than admit it aloud—and now it seemed he was the one being careless this time—he hadn’t meant to say it, and he opened his mouth to try and cover the slip but—

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Branch nodded, and bent to pick up a few rolls of the thick red gift paper—he hadn’t—he hadn’t noticed? “I’ll drop by at—at…” He dropped the rolls, and straightened up so quickly, it looked to Sky like an invisible puppeteer had fixed a string to his spine, and suddenly given it a strong jerk.

He’d noticed.

“I—uh—you—I—you—what—I don’t—what did you—?” The stutter was back, it seemed, and more prominent than ever.

Well – Sky straightened his tie again – he supposed there was no taking it back now. Best way out was straight through, and all of that. “Really need to work on that gibberish, neighbor.”

Branch squeaked, then snatched frantically at the hood, pulling it down low in what, Sky guessed, was a desperate, and hugely unsuccessful, attempt to hide his face. “I—I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Mr. Toronto,” he managed, with a creditable attempt at sincerity. “But I—er, I—

Sky rolled his eyes heavenward. Honestly. How the troll in front of him had managed to keep a secret of this magnitude for this long from the rest of the village seemed nothing short of a miracle. He did not have time for this. “All right, that’s quite enough, Branch. Give it up. I know it’s you.”

Branch froze.

For several seconds that seemed much longer, Sky was sure he was about to bolt, if the tension in his shoulders and the way he clenched his hands into fists at his sides was anything to go by, but then—

But then he let out a long, long breath, reached up, and drew back his hood.

His thick, bright hair tumbled free from the dark cloth at once, springing stubbornly upright; he knocked the glasses from their perch on his broad nose. “Okay, fine. You caught me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered half under his breath, “I knew I should have worn the gloves.”

“Yes.” Sky had to smile, even if it was small. “You should have. Surprisingly careless, considering it’s you.”

“Hey, I was in a hurry! And I figured I could get away with it this year, it’s not like I’m grey any—look, Sky,” Branch abandoned the sentence and uncrossed his arms again, bringing a hand to his head to rub tiredly at his temple. “In case you couldn’t tell by the hood, and the sunglasses, and everything, I’d really like it if we could just—just keep this between us and—

Sky waved a dismissive hand to silence him. “Keep your vest on, neighbor, I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t plan to. Would have done it years ago if that had been the case.”

“Years—?” Branch sucked in a breath. “How—uh, how long have you known?”

“A while.” His mouth turned up at one corner. “Subtlety isn’t something you’ve ever had in spades.”

“Poppy says the same thing,” the younger troll muttered grumpily, and crossed his arms again, cheeks flushing.

The words brought another smile to Sky’s face – seems somebody besides himself was finally catching on – then stirred something in his mind; the likelihood was admittedly low, but they’d been close ever since the alliance with the Bergens, closer than anyone had ever imagined another troll would get to Branch. “Queen Poppy, does she—?”

“Yeah, she found out sometime last year. By accident,” Branch added, at his questioning look. “She wasn’t supposed to—I didn’t tell her, I didn’t want her—I didn’t want her to know, I—

“I would figure as much.” Sky saved him from the struggle of completing the sentence. “I assume she wanted to run off and inform the entire village at first opportunity.”

“Yeah, she did,” Branch gave a small, breathy laugh. “She was really set it on at first, but she eased up after I told her I didn’t want it.” He hesitated. “Thanks for—for not doing that, by the way.”

Sky shrugged. “Always figured you’d do that on your own time, to tell the truth.”

“No!” Branch blurted, almost before the other had finished speaking. “I—I mean—no, that’s—that’s not—I’m not doing that, either.”

“No?” Sky cocked a brow. “Shame. It’s a…” He adjusted his tie again, tugging a little at the edges to cover the sudden heat rising in his face – at least it would be hard to see the rush of color to his cheeks beneath all the glitter. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for the village,” he managed at last, and left it at that – he wished he hadn’t even said that much, truth be told, but it wasn’t as if the kid was going to hear it from anyone else. That thought quelled the sharpest part of his regret, and pulled the next words from his mouth. “I can think of many trolls who would love to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“I don’t—I don’t want that,” Branch mumbled at once; he seemed almost uncomfortable with the praise. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

Sky might not have been the most observant troll around, but he knew an opening when he saw one; it wouldn’t take more than a few words to put an end to this conversation, and send Branch on his way, with all his rolls of ugly red gift paper, and then everything would go back to normal—they could both put this from their minds, pretend it had never happened—Branch could get to work on the gifts—and he could get back to work—the pressure in his chest eased at the thought of it—yes, work would set them both to rights, he was sure of it—work always set him to rights after all—the numbers and figures, the facts and digits, the data and statistics never failed to soothe him in the same way that sentimental discussions only ever served to unsettle him—yes, work was just what he needed right now, but—but—

“Well…” Branch lifted one shoulder, then dropped it a second later in a half-shrug. “Thanks. For all of it.” He picked his sunglasses up off the floor and paused to dust them off. “See you around, Sky.” There was something like finality in the way he said the words, in the way he drew up his hood, in the way he turned to leave—which was good because he was putting an end to the conversation himself and now Sky didn’t have to which was good and they could both get back to work which was good because work would set him to rights and work was just what he needed right now but—but—

“Branch.” He didn’t know why he did it – he surprised even himself when he did, but there were words crashing around inside him, so many words, all fighting and clawing for a place in his throat and on his tongue, each knowing how much they needed to be said, how much somebody needed to say them, so he stepped forward and spoke. “I mean it. It is a good thing you’re doing for the village. You should know you’re making a lot of trolls awfully happy. And your…” Sky faltered, for a fraction of a second, suddenly hesitant, but he found his voice again, and forced himself to go on. “Your grandmother would be very proud of you.”

Branch froze—for several seconds, it did not look like he even breathed—and then, suddenly, he whirled around, scrubbing furiously at his eyes—and Sky remembered the kid who’d weathered barely twelve summers, all too-big ears and wounded pride, yelling about charity so loudly, he was certain half the village could hear, and he waited for something very much like that to happen again and—

“Th-thank you.”

The words were quiet—no more than a murmur, really—and the voice that said them, shaking like a leaf—and Sky wondered if he’d imagined it—and he thought he really might have—and then Branch—Branch smiled at him, small and shaky and painfully uncertain—and almost before he could stop himself, Sky smiled back, and gave his shoulder a quick, light squeeze.

“Good luck out there this year, neighbor.” He patted him on the shoulder one last time before he let him go—needed to get back to work, after all—yes, work sounded like a good idea right about now—work would help—work would set him to rights—

But then – with a trembling thank you still echoing in his ears, and a smile still tugging at his mouth – Sky didn’t know that he needed the work to set him to rights this time after all.

**Author's Note:**

> LiSTEn bRANCH AnD SKY TOrOnTO WOuLd tOTaLLy BEcOmE FrIeNDS OkAy sHUt uR MOuTh. anyway, this was a pretty shamelessly self-indulgent little fucker. also I noticed Sky seems pretty awkward about feelings (he handed Branch a ready-made "official Sky Toronto apology" when it occurs to him how badly he trod on the other's boundaries in "Neighbor War", if that tells us anything) so I based most of my characterization of him off that, since we only see him in two episodes, and don't know much about him yet.


End file.
